Thundering Whispers
by Linnath
Summary: Lift your eyes unto the stars . . . Idril Of Gondolin. COMPLETE!
1. Starlight

_I own nothing whatsoever. Sue me at your own peril._

_This just a short thing written late at night when I should be doing school. Oh well._

**Thundering Whispers**

She married him despite her fear. She would not let her shadowy, possessive cousin influence her decisions, and thus chose to be with the man she loved. Yet this did not stop her dark dreams, or still her tremors of dread.

Neither her father's smile nor her husband's warm embrace could reassure her of safety and peace. The joy at the birth of her son provided little respite from her worries, and soon her premonitions multiplied. A dull echo of danger seemed to resound in her head.

She paced the battlements at night, high above the seven gates of her city. She begged the stars to speak to her in simple terms that she might understand, and not leave her with only hazy possibilities. The familiar skies were silent under her pleading gaze, and she closed her eyes to hold back the cold tears.

A breeze that had been tossed around the stars and smelt of the far limits of space and wonder came to nestle in her hair. She raised her face and opened her eyes. A bright star swam in her tears, just a blur of strange and awful delight. She blinked the tears away, and the star was gone. With a low cry, she searched the sky for that bright gleam but that star was no longer before her sight.

She stood quietly; was her hope only to be seen through a sea of despair? Or was this a forerunner of the future? A new star, one that brought joy and comfort after a ordeal of pain and suffering.

The cry of a child reached her ears, and she turned to go in to her son. The future, with its dark times and bright loves, would wait. Her own loves needed her at the moment. "I am here, Earendil" she whispered.

_Any thoughts? Please review!_


	2. Betrayal

This betrayal rivaled the horror of the kinslaying. Below her the dark shapes writhed in a tumultuous struggle. Revulsion at the scene caused her to feel ill. Smoke and flames were filling the sky, obscuring her view of the moon and stars.

She grasped at her son resolutely with one hand, and holding her sword loosely in the other moved quickly forward. Her husband was joining in the desperate melee in an effort to rescue her people from the treachery of her cousin. Her father remained immovable in his white tower, refusing even the forgiveness of his beloved people. Her son was the last member of her family that she could protect.

The stench of orc filth and burning flesh filled her nostrils as the hurried. The clash of arms and the cries of battle rose to threaten her courage. Shadowed figures fled to the hidden entrance of the tunnel that she had caused to be created. Their terror-stricken silence was ominous beneath the sounds of war.

A familiar shape sprang suddenly before her and she halted sharply, dread at last consuming her. His powerful bearing was slouched under the evil he had taken on, and his eyes gleamed with a darklit desire.

She had given herself to another man in marriage, and this night he had taken his revenge.

Yet even in his moment of triumph he hesitated, and his attention flickered to the fire encircling the city below. In his lust, he had entrapped himself within a ring of fire.


	3. Night

Fear was seething in her blood; she could feel it burning her resolve and control till she should collapse. She stood on the battlements over her city, time freezing into a distant stillness. The inky smoke was choking her, and the leaping fire filled her vision.

Orange haze flickered over her city. The thick heat of oppression settled down heavily upon her shoulders. A small pebble pressed against the sole of her boot. A warm little fist strained in her hand. A cold blade shivered in her fingers.

Her family, her son, her responsability. She flung the child behind her and raised her sword in one hand. Thus it was her instinct to defend and protect that betrayed her.

Bending over her son, shielding him with her body, she was in no position to withstand to the sudden attack from her malignant cousin. In a broken heartbeat she was on the ground, feeling the harsh stones under her palms, gasping for breath as the boy struggled in a desperate grip. Her sword was spiraling over the wall onto the thunderous struggle below.

She raised her eyes to the muffled cries of her child. The Betrayer held him in one arm, hand clasped cruelly over the child's mouth. "The tunnel" he whispered hoarsely. She remained frozen in sharp anguish. Her people or her baby. The worry and terror of previous nights had ill prepared her for the evil choices this red night forced upon her.


	4. Nobility

The moments were marching slowly over her bowed head and prostrate form. The clamor of lives being saved and lost in a horrible game of chance filled her senses. Despair rose in her throat, attempting to smother her. What did her decisions matter, now in this instant of loss?

Quietly, garnering the strength of will left her, she rose to her knees. Kneeling in the flaming darkness, she clung to her answer with shaky resolve. He saw the reply in the Lady's face; cheeks smudged with tears, her eyes were gleaming with fierce nobility.

With a shriek of rage, he tightened his grasp on her child, tightening grasp on his blade for a death stroke. She cried out in abrupt maternal distress, reaching out to pull her son from the fate to which she had just condemned him.

Then the boy, with the all the anger of a righteous prince, closed his teeth on the hand of his captor. Startled, the heinous betrayer dropped the child.

The child tumbled on the ground, all his strength spent in the act of defiance. His mother, in the silence born of excruciating joy, caught him in her arms. She knew full well that her son might be permanently taken from her embrace soon.

Glowering in fury and growing terror, her cousin lifted his sword over mother and child, when a shout brought him whirling around. Standing in the haze at the far end of the battlement, wrath written in every line of his silhouette, stood her husband, with his wife's sword grasped in his hand.


	5. Defence

Her child twisted in her arms, watching at his father advance swiftly across the ramparts. The Betrayer stood still; hesitating between anger and hopelessness. Then, with a cry of hate and despair, he turned upon the huddled shadows at his feet.

In one heavy motion, he swung his blade up for a death stroke. All the ages of the world were compressed into that one beat of her heart. The dread was pressing on her ears, drowning her, the darkness was consuming her.

The sound of her husband's voice raised her gaze. She saw him bearing down on them. He was warmth and life in her sight; the haze dispersed before him as night does before the dawn.

With a shiver, she flung her son and herself closer to the parapet as the sword fell sharply. Missing his mark, her cousin twirled to face her new position, howling with fury. She stared at him in horror; his face was so twisted and convoluted with hate and evil that he resembled the orcs.

He threw up his arm for another strike, and she bowed her head. She could not move away from this blow. The Betrayer's sword began to descend. Her son gasped in fear. She rested her wet cheek on his hair, kissing him gently.

A dull clash of steel. Her husband was beside her, straining to hold the weight of the enemy blade away from his wife and child.


	6. Hope

She was still, sensing the tension of power and love over her head. The Dark One, who held the strength of despair, was seeking revenge. Her beloved, resolute love being the only thing that supported him, determined to secure the safety of his family.

Shouting, her husband heaved the Betrayer backward, driving him along the wall. She closed her eyes tightly and turned her son's face away. This battle of light and dark was so intense that she could not bear to watch.

Her life was hanging on the outcome of one small conflict. Of all the battle and wars that had ever occurred, and that would occur, she herself was dependant on this one, almost insignificant, battle.

With an effort, she forced the morbid thoughts away and became aware of a whimpering on her shoulder. The clanging of arms in the courtyard below and the hiss of fire competed with the sound of a life in her arms. A sob choked her.

A hoarse cry of victory came to her ears. Slowly she rose to her feet and turned to face her fate. Her husband stood, rigid and weary, over the slain foe. Slowly he looked up at her, assuring himself that his family was out of harm's way.

Without a word he held out his hand, coming towards her. As she took his fingers in her own, the blaze of fire below crackled. He picked up their child and began to guide her to the tunnel, leading their family to safety.

So much was lost that could never be regained. The night had already cost an eternity of pain and suffering. The dawn was coming. The stars would shine again.

* * *

_This is not the end of their story, but I cannot write anymore without overusing more cliches. If you want to know what happened to them, read Lost Tales 2, The Fall of Gondolin. I tried to stay very cannon._

_Avie, thanks for your encouragement and support. You're the greatest!_

_The rest of you . . REVIEW! I'll review yours if you review mine. Deal?_


End file.
